Around the fair, the works were mainly tailored to an Angeleno audience. Lots of pink and blue gradient sunset colors shaded the paintings and sculptures, and much of the work seemed directly descended from the plastic-gloss-loving Finish Fetish movement that happened in mid-1960s L.A.
Art Los Angeles Contemporary is still growing into itself, trying to figure out its identity. For now, it seems to embody the most “professional” art fair in L.A., compared to the punky Art Book Fair and Paramount Ranch. But ALAC seems young in and of itself. There aren’t any giant sculptures (apart from Aaron Wrinkle and Michael Decker’s Lazy Boy, which first showed at L.A. gallery Chin’s Push, at the fair’s entrance), very few important pieces by establishment artists, and no installations that burst from the seams of the booth. That’s not necessarily a bad thing; there’s a certain charm in necessitated restraint.